I was gone fifteen days.

Not really sure what happened other than I slept eight hours last night, almost to the exact minute, and felt clean and clear waking up in my bed in the loft in the canyon.  In the California mythos of sunshine-wintertime.

I was gone fifteen days but the truth is it was way, way longer than that.  On Friday Uncle Tim, who is my godfather by the soul way, called in the morning.  It was Ocean Pines gray out which is its own special prison that keeps the winter folk away.  The thing is with sock-in like that marsh gasses keep the soil tender-moist and smelling green.  So we took a four mile tall tree walk on a path he tends for the Rec department and I cried those hot soul-cleanse tears that are meant only for God-ppl and wise women, which of course are the same thing.  Helped me to take serious the karma I have between me and my own god-kids, too.  Later I found out about Derynne's brother and couldn't see straight again.

So Konan came through winding us up at Cork Bar downtown which in a million different scenarios if I had to hand-pick that would be down towards 9 hundred ninety thousand on the list.  But here's the thing, the Wild proclamation:  you just never know you know?  We wound up late night in WOC and that there was the only place in the world I needed to be, kicking it w his real home grls and seeing myself in them in a way I haven't seen me in Way. Too. Long a time.

The next day I stayed in pajamas til 7 pm and watched the Red Tent and ate the soup broth I'd made/been making since the first night at home.  Witchy bitches make witchy brew.  We watched the Ravens rock Pitt like we all knew was coming.  WILD card that's Baltimore, that special Baltimore one-eyed medicine some mistake as bad (false-pride).

And that's what's up, tracking home, the special tendencies that run the soul of who you are cuz of the land peopled through of from-where-you-come.  If you can read and track this, good for you.  If you can't you need help dark-seeing which means between the lines.  Linguistics.  Can't be studied. Someone should tell Pacifica that.

Point is this all happened or started back the night I went to HB to meet Yasi and Konan started blowing me up--that's the thing about WILD, all cards eventually come a calling and that's the thing about one-eyed medicine.  It's your duty to rise up when the reminder comes: you CAN see.

So now Humboldt makes sense, the long 101 journey home again to the earth and the tides that rise.  I come living back to the canyon, no food in my hobbit dwelling just coffee and no phone charger to keep me tied to time and ties and all that hell.  I write these words and The Light comes on which is Erin Mac back there in Baldamore making her next moves saying wutsup.  She comes through as WILD does, like I useta say and always will, Poetry is my only religion.



That is what's up.

I know Who I am.   I need little else than that.

Prayers that all ppl get right. Or Wild.  Either or is the same.  Go listen to some good music if you're dead!

I'm going for a swim.

Sometimes it's suntime

The jasmine here is delirious.  Some day it will be normal to say well back when I first came to California I remember smelling the jasmine. It comes on right when lightening bug season comes on in Maryland and I would smell it riding my bike around the little beach town where I went to live and write in the sun like I always said I would.  I would smell it and wonder what godly gypsy-scented air is that so high and full in my nose, even more flowery sweet than honeysuckle is?  I would smell it and almost gag and think my god earth we get it, you're here!  With your fertile sticky yellows and greens.  I would smell it on the way to cut loose at the beach for just an hour between grading exams and writing and on the beach I would smell the seaweed and feel so in love with my moment to moment life it felt like there was a halo in my heart.  Or I would smell it at a light in Corona when the white sun so fierce as it grew more and more close shone down on my head through the sunroof of my 20 year old car and I would pretend I was in a movie about California driving PCH in a convertible driven by a scarf wearing 1950's actress glamorous as she was innocent.  So much whimsy it's serious, or is it the other way around?

That will be someday.  For now I am in that funny place that happens to me right before I get truly comfy.  Reviewing all the reasons to split.  Which is not so much review as it is thinking of all the amazing other things going on in all the other places I could be right now.  Eeeek.  There are permaculture havens in Equador.  There are tribes of aloha spirits in Hawaii and in one week the Big Island came to me three different times.  This is what happens.  I get to the footwork part of actualizing what I really want and then this wild card I have inside me flips.  Which is why I will go to the woods to feed my spirit.  It's funny Ed Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros literally just sung 'sometimes said its suntime let the sun shine on my mind' and it seems to fit.  Exactly.  There's all these million needs we need.  But really, they come down to just a few.  I need the sun and the sea and sand.  I need the green breathing trees.  I need poetry and relationships and love and to move my body.  I need to say yes to my spirit when it asks can you hear.  Sometimes it's suntime....

That's not a lot.  Why's saying yes take so long to learn though?